Five

Yo! Read the details in the summary & my A/n for this fic before you read the actual piece. :) It's definitely not for everyone.

A/n: Although I'm a bit embarrassed about having written something so incredibly kinky, I'm still kinda proud of this piece. It came out as emotional as I imagined it and, if it's even possible to put together with fisting, it came out tasteful. I kept my focus on Shuuhei and Kensei's relationship - trust, love, submission - and not so much on the act itself (although it's still graphic.)

xXx

One.

Shuuhei twists on his back beneath me, spreading his thighs wide and sucking in his bottom lip between his teeth. He makes a wanton, almost squeaky noise and the sound of it sends shivers down my spine.

I twist my finger a couple of times inside his (tight, skinny, gorgeous) ass and then pull out.

Two.

He arches his back. I can see in his face that he feels the stretch, that it’s not completely comfortable, but he doesn’t complain. Instead he plants his feet firmly on the mattress and pushes back, making sure my fingers are buried completely.

When I crook them and push up he mewls like an over-sized kitten. His brow is glistening with sweat.

I fuck him until he begs for more.

Three.

He’s tight around me and I know I have to do this just right to be able to pull it off. My fingers are squeezed into a cone shape and I try to flatten them, make the intrusion wider, but the muscle refuses to give. It doesn’t matter. We’ll get there.

The sight of the thick, slicked up digits disappearing into him to the third knuckle is enough to make me grit my teeth until my jaw aches.

He moans and hooks his hands under his knees and pulls his legs up. He’s folded almost double beneath me and I doubt I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful.

When he looks up and pins me with that piercing gray gaze of his I suddenly feel like giving up on my plan and give in.

I feel like shoving my cock inside him and pump him full of come.

Four.

No. I will do this. He doesn’t know it yet but I will continue until I’m buried in him in a way he’s never experienced before.

With gentle hands and a gruff command I make him turn over and get on his knees, his face buried in the pillow, his sweet ass high in the air. I smear my fingers with so much lubricant they drip and when I enter him this time he cries my name.

Twisting my hand and slowly, oh so fucking slowly working my fingers deeper I savor each sound he makes (moans hidden in every breath, little whimpers tinged with pain) and I don’t stop until my knuckles brush his ass. I feel the strong muscle fight a losing battle, the rhythmic squeezing slowly easing up and coming to a halt.

Shuuhei is trembling as if torn between pulling away and pushing back, unable to make up his mind. I run my free hand over his back in large circles, trying to comfort him, to encourage him. I murmur soft nothings and words I know he loves hearing. I tell him what a good boy he is. I tell him I’m proud of him.

I tell him I’m going to push my entire hand inside him. The shudder in reply makes me groan out loud.

I push and watch his body swallow my four fingers past the knuckles, all the way up to the base of my thumb. When they curl and scrape over his prostate he lets out a loud sob and rocks back onto them.

My brave boy.

Five.

As I drizzle lube between his cheeks I realize my hands are shaking. My hands never shake. It dawns on me that I’m nervous, more nervous than I’ve been in a long, long while. I push thick globs of slick fluid into him with my fingertips, then chase after them and coat his insides thoroughly.

His head is turned to the side, his face visible now. It’s bright red with effort and excitement and probably embarrassment, the scars running down the side of his face are pale in comparison. It’s beautiful and I tell him so. He answers by burying it in the pillow again. I don’t blame him

I can smell his arousal. A quick glance between his thighs tells me what I already know – he’s not hard. But he’s still dripping, a long glistening strand of precome connecting his soft cock to the mattress. There’s a growing stain on the sheets and I get a sudden urge to suck the white cotton into my mouth and suckle the wetness from it. Instead I break the strand of precome with a fingertip and bring it to my mouth. It tastes like brackish water, almost sweet. Nectar of the fucking gods.

Before I start coating my hand with lube I give him a way out. I let him know four fingers past the knuckles is just fine, that stopping there wouldn’t make me any less proud of him. I know it goes against my usual style, allowing him to back out like this, but this is big. This is a matter of absolute trust. Still, when he shakes his head no and wiggles his hips the tiniest bit in invitation I feel my heart swell. There really is nothing left of the sniveling brat I saved all those years ago; the man I love faces his fears, embraces his darkness and accepts me into him, just like I was hoping he would.

I make sure every millimeter from the tip of my fingers to way past my wrist is slick and I don’t mean to frighten or humiliate Shuuhei but I tell him to watch as I lube up. The look in his eyes, determined but wary, makes my cock throb so hard it feels as if the skin is about to burst. I’d bleed out in a minute, I’m that hard. I make him look because I need to see those eyes, because I’m selfish like that.

When I'm done we start over again. One finger. Two. Three fingers pumping in and out of him, making him arch and stretch and yowl. I feel the tension drain from him, replaced by hunger, and I fuck him harder while running my other hand between his legs, cupping his balls, fisting his cock. Another burst of precome wets my palm and I pull away to lick it off.

I claw softly with four fingers inside him, alternating between rubbing and simply pushing against the prostate and I find myself wondering if I will be able to make him come like this, with his cock still soft and only his insides being stimulated. It's possible, of course, and god knows he's sensitive and responsive enough. It's just a matter of letting go.

I wonder if I can take him that far.

We start. I tell Shuuhei to grab a couple of fat pillows and put them under his hips, order him around until he has taken most of his weight off his knees and is resting comfortably on his stomach, ass still easily accessible.

Pinching my fingertips together and making my hand as narrow as possible I gently push into him to the second knuckle, then pause. It's then I realize we're breathing in tandem: forced, deep, slow breaths, shaky with nerves.

Shuuhei looks back at me over his shoulder and bites his lip. C'mon, he says. Shit... Did I mention that I love this man?

He takes me in to where my hand widens most and we grow still again. Again he urges me on. Again I comply.

I didn't think he would be fighting me but I didn't think he would be this eager either. I'm not sure how it happened but suddenly it's as if he's the one in command and I'm only doing what he asks me (with body and eyes and husky muttering) to. It takes conscious effort to look away from his feverish eyes and instead focus fully on what I'm doing. I grab a hip firmly and with the other hand I push and I watch it disappear inside him, centimeter by painfully slow centimeter. We're past the widest part, past the knuckles, and the urge to increase the pressure and just slide the rest of the way is strong. But I hold back.

I don't know how long it takes for Shuuhei to take me inside him. It's impossible to say if it's been seconds or hours, time has lost all meaning to me. All I know is that he lets out the longest, sweetest wail and I have to use every ounce of my strength not to let go of his hip and jerk myself off.

You should see him... He's gorgeous. Beads of sweat make his skin shine in the dim light of our bedroom, his hair is plastered to his neck and face, his eyes are screwed shut. I feel wave after wave of tremors run through his body, I feel them around me, fluttering against my hand. He's wet and hot inside, so very tight around my wrist. I gently flex my fingers, just a little, and the reaction is incredible. The moan is almost inhuman, so deep and coarse it makes my skin tingle.

Then he starts talking.

So full, he says. I never thought, he says, cutting himself off to bury his face in the pillow with another earth-shattering moan. Oh god, he gasps when he looks back up. Please.

Good boy, I answer him. Such a good boy. Such a fucking good boy opening up for me and taking me in and loving it... I tell him I want him to come for me and then I get to work, twisting my hand until my knuckles brush his prostate, slowly working them back and forth over the swollen gland. I let my fingers curl, not quite into a fist but not far from it, increasing the pressure on his insides.

This is when he starts crying. Not bawling, not wailing; just quiet gasping sobs that wrack his slender frame and turn his cheeks wet. There's no pain behind the tears, no weakness. I see them for what they are: he's overwhelmed. His voice is cracked when he begs me for release, when he tells me yes - he will come for me. All I have to do is make him.

I up the pressure and speed and this time my need for him to come comes out as an order. I tell him over and over, repeating it like a mantra and raising my voice as he hides from the world again, clawing the sheets with desperate hands and making broken noises deep in his throat.

We reach the point where I'm afraid I'll hurt him; my movements inside him are rough, careless almost. He seems to need it, though. He's pushing back against my hand, cautiously but steady, lifting his hips from the pillow and getting back up on his knees to get better leverage, to get even closer to me.

When he breaks I nearly do too. Come not so much spurts as pours from his slightly swollen cock, dripping thickly onto the pillow and bed. I'm sure I would be able to hear it hit the fabric if it wasn't for Shuuhei howling my name. He sounds almost afraid, as if the strength of his release is too much, as if he's about to drown in it and I grab his hip tighter to ground him. My mantra has changed into 'I've got you, baby. It's ok.' and I realize I sound calm, something I find incredible when Shuuhei's body is clenching so tightly around my wrist my hand throbs from the cut-off flow of blood. It almost hurts.

I love it.

His orgasm goes on for what seems like forever. When he finally relaxes, when the rhythmic squeezing stops, I allow us both to catch our breath for a moment before pulling out of him as gently as I can. Still it makes him whine. No wonder.

I grab a towel off the floor and carefully wipe my hand, then gently clean him up before urging him to roll onto his side, away from the puddle of semen slowly seeping into the sheets, and laying down beside him.

He curls up immediately, his head on my chest and his arm slung across my waist. He molds himself against my side and makes himself as small as possible and I wrap an arm around him and kiss his sweaty hair. There are no words. Nothing we could say could even come close to describe what just happened. We settle for small noises; a grunt from me, breathy sighs from him.

He trembles in my arms for a long time before he drifts off to sleep.

I tremble even longer before I follow him.

xXx

Comments are very welcome!